Out For A Stroll - by Houses
by Babyverse Krewe
Summary: AU - The Pride & The Scourge. A continuation of Ten's


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OUT FOR A STROLL: A Love Story in 10 Acts

Or 

**__**

"How Charles Gunn could have gotten rabies from something that wasn't there."

By Houses

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Set almost immediately after "Tea with Dru" by Ten. The story of Wes's reintegration to Angel Investigations and his continuing courtship of Drusilla. W/D, F/G, and potential A/C- not explicit. Starts light, gets darker with issues of potential rape and actual mutilation- fun for all! Implied sex/ erotic situations. The quoted poem is from the Cad Goddeu, or Battle of the Trees, an ancient Welsh poem.

The usual disclaimers apply. Joss is a god, Ebs is a goddess, and I own no one but Melvin, Ramon, and Gwen. And I wouldn't really want to own Melvin and Ramon. I have a warped sense of humor, so please don't be offended. Enjoy.

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*****1*****

"I sure am glad Wesley's back," Fred said as she shuffled a sheaf of papers on the desk.

"MmHhhmm," Cordelia leaned as far back on her stool as she could, trying to see in the garden on the other side of the lobby.

"We haven't gotten to discuss any of these new articles, and there is this particularly exciting one about three-dimensional holographic data storage from the group in Montreal. They developed a new high density crystal matrix and--"

"Whatever," Cordy interrupted. "I just wanna know what they are doing out there at night. I mean, who goes and sits in a garden at night? Well, other than vampires, of course, and Drusilla always was a little odd, even for a vampire. Or more than a little." She scooted her stool a little further back and craned her neck, touching the back of her neck. She was still getting used to her shorter hair, and it seemed strange to her when it didn't swing around her face. 

It had been a little over a week since Wesley's precipitous arrival back to the Hyperion to rescue Drusilla from her own mind. He and Angel had settled their initial argument testosterone style, and once the immediate danger to Drusilla had passed, they studiously avoided each other. Wesley spent the nights with Dru in her quarters; she was still suffering weird nightmares and visions as an after-effect of the demon blood. Once Angel retired for the mornings, Wes would emerge downstairs in his office and began putting things to rights, keeping his regular tea date every afternoon. He didn't seem to want to socialize much with the rest of the team, and was more than his usual quiet and reserved self. In fact, he was exhausted, trying to keep both a day and night schedule. Tonight, however, he and Drusilla had floated down the stairs sometime after dark and went straight to the garden carrying a few boxes and a very lumpy canvas bag. Drusilla looked extremely pleased and Wesley more animated than Cordelia or Fred had seen him since his return. Angel and Gunn were out of the office investigating what appeared to be a haunting in a local resident's house.

"Do you think they're in love?" 

Fred got a wistful look on her face and Cordy was sure she was picturing Gunn. She thought for a moment then answered, "Yeah, I suppose. They did seem awfully intense the other day. Either that or Thrall."

"Thrall, you mean like in the movies? That's real?"

"Sure. I mean, Dracula came to Sunnyhell not that long ago and turned Xander into a regular Bug Eater. Had him calling him 'Master' and everything. Buffy was pissed." Cordy grinned. "And I know that Drusilla can do it as well. Part of that whole psycho thing she has going on. She used to hypnotize her victims that way. Her version of cat and mouse."

Fred looked sort of startled. No one had filled her in much on Drusilla, other than she was Angel's other "Big Regret and Guilt," and he felt responsible for her. Drusilla had been even more of a recluse than Fred; Angel brought her meals to her, just to make sure she ate. It didn't look like a problem now, though. Fred twiddled her hair and fidgeted with her glasses. "She's not going to eat him, is she?"

Cordy laughed. "Probably not; she would have already if she was going to--but did you see the bite marks when he came down? She sure looks like she is enjoying herself. Wes does seem a bit off, though. Colder somehow, maybe more distant. I dunno." She turned her attention back to the solarium. "What could they be doing?" The night air was cool, and blew softly through the open doors. Cordelia could hear faint singing, but nothing more, and she couldn't see anything from this angle.

"Flowers." Gunn dropped his bag of weapons on the desk. He looked grimy and sweaty and definitely worse for wear. A dusting of cobwebs covered the shoulders of his cargo coat and the coating of dust and webs on his bald head made him look like a gray-haired old man. Fred thought he was adorable. "I looked in on my way down the stairs and he's planting flowers—daisies, I think. Remind me not to go messing about in any more old attics: way too many spiders."

The two girls exchanged looks. Cordy mused, "Planting daisies at night, huh? What is she doing? Singing to them?"

Gunn shrugged, "Maybe, I didn't see her. I could hear her singing something, though; she sounded happy. I had no idea that Wes could garden, but he is British and all that. They do that sort of thing."

The three of them glanced back to the garden. "Flowers. That can't be Thrall then, can it?" Fred said pensively.

****

******2*******

Wesley could feel her watching him. She must have vamped out, and the predator gaze was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. As well as other things. He sighed and picked up another plant. "Dru, dear, I am never going to get this finished if you keep distracting me like this."

She chirped from somewhere nearby. Drusilla was prowling around the garden behind him, weaving in and out of the overgrown shrubs, deadly silent except for the soft song she was singing. 

__

I have been in many shapes,

Before I attained a congenial form.

I have been a narrow blade of a sword.

(I will believe it when it appears.)

I have been a drop in the air.

I have been a shining star.

I have been a word in a book.

I have been a book originally.

I have been a light in a lantern....

He could just catch words now and then, but it sounded like an old poem, Welsh maybe. He wondered where Dru had picked it up; it was not in her usual repertoire. Perhaps she had learned it as a child.

__

I have been a sword in the hand.

I have been a shield in a fight.

I have been a string on a harp,

Enchanted for a year

In the foam of the water. 

I have been a poker in a fire.

There is nothing which I have not been....

Sort of hypnotic actually, when you listened to it, thought Wesley. 

__

Room for a million angels

on my knife point, it appears.

Then room for how many worlds 

atop of two blunt spears?

But I prophesy no evil,

my cassock is wholly red....

Suddenly she vaulted out of the bushes and knocked him over, her nails raking down his forearm where his cuffs were rolled up to keep out of the dirt. Wes hissed, then moaned, as she lightly ran her tongue over the cuts. "Sweet, sweet Wesley. My Wesley." Drusilla was perched on his chest, her long black hair falling forward over her shoulders and into his face. It smelled of lilac and lavender. Wes slid his hands around her waist and sat them both up, nuzzling into her neck. She licked the old puncture marks on his throat and cooed when he arched his back in response.

"Yes, your Wesley, always. As much as I like you there, if you hop off I can keep planting. I promised you flowers that wouldn't die, didn't I my dear?"

Dru's face clouded for a moment and her eyes began to glisten; she spoke in a quiet voice, like that of a small child. "They all die, they always die."

The first time she had said that to him a few nights before, he had no idea what she was talking about. Who--people? Did she mean lovers? Angel, Spike- but they hadn't died, really. Or at least, hadn't died permanently... It wasn't until she pointed at the flowers he had brought that he understood. So he had promised her flowers that wouldn't die, and was now out on his hands and knees in the sorry excuse for a garden attached to the hotel, planting Gerbas, Black-Eyed Susans, and a few other daisy varieties. She said she liked daisies best; they reminded her of her childhood. He had also arranged for a few night-blooming flowers to be brought by the local greenhouse and installed. He figured that Angel wouldn't notice, or if he did, he wouldn't mind. It surprised him how much Dru cared about having the flowers live, given how much she relished massacre and mayhem. He supposed that her idea of a good death didn't involve the violets on her sill.

Dru got a faraway look on her face, sort-of soft and distant. "Someday you'll be dead too, but it will be all right. We'll be all right. A family, won't that be lovely?"

Dru slid bonelessly off his lap and snuck back into the shadows, singing softly again. A piece of moonbeam broke through the clouds and she danced out of the full dark. The moonlight slid down her arms like satin, all silver glow, accentuating the glorious pallor of her skin. Wes was transfixed. She twisted about like a ballerina--maybe she ate one once, he mused. It almost alarmed him how much the thought didn't bother him. The long skirts of her emerald dress, almost black in the night, swished over the stones on the patio, though her soft, bare feet made no noise. Abruptly she stopped and looked at him. A smile played at the corner of her mouth and she growled, showing fangs. Then she disappeared into the shadows by the walls once again.

Wes fiddled with the plants for a bit longer. He had never planted anything at night before, but he thought it wouldn't make any difference. He would have liked to do this in the daytime, and have it ready for Dru when she woke up, but she had insisted on participating. When he was finished, he found her by the pool and fountain in the center of the courtyard, tracing designs on the water with her fingertips. The moonlight reflected back onto her face in ever-changing patterns, making her eyes glitter. She smiled. "I'm hungry, Wesley."

"Alright, dear, let's go see what Angel has for you in the fridge."

Dru made a face. "I hate pig's blood; tastes dirty and Ms. Edith doesn't like it. I don't want it." She pouted her lower lip out and looked up through her eyelashes. "I want to go out."

Though Drusilla had mostly recovered from the hallucination incident, Wes was still worried. She sometimes seemed to slip out of this reality, rambling on about things that weren't there, particularly in the light that crept in around the windows. Sometimes she would get upset, and all Wes could do was hold her and stroke her hair. He thought it was just residual, but he wasn't that familiar with her condition before the poison. Angel and the Watcher's diaries had made her out to be mad though occasionally prophetic, and unstable. He worried that something might push her over the edge if she was exposed to too much too soon. And he wanted to do some research. God, he really was a twit sometimes. Research. He gently shook his head. "I'm sorry, luv, but we can't just go out snacking anytime." He had a little thrill in the pit of his stomach at the thought, like something was wound too tightly and wanted to spring free. He was too stressed these days. "After you eat, we'll go for a lovely stroll then?"

Dru harrumphed but nodded anyway, and held out her hands. He pulled her to her feet, swung her around and kissed her soundly. "To the fridge then?" he asked as he held out his elbow for her hand.

****

*****3*****

As the pair stepped through the glass doors into the lobby of the hotel, an interesting tableau met their eyes. Cordelia, Fred, and Gunn all tried to look very busy, and failed, then all tried to talk at the same time.

"How's the gard--"

"Know any good books on ghos--"

"Can we meet about some new articles that came in--"

Wesley blinked and Drusilla smirked. "They were trying to spy on us, my knight. Curious eyes, bending around corners. Naughty children. This one wonders about me," Drusilla said, tracing a chill finger down Fred's arm, and staring rather too fixedly at her eyes. Fred jumped and pushed her glasses up her nose, eyes darting from one to the other.

"Well, yes, I know we haven't really met, what with me being a recluse and you being a vampire and not very social and all but I'm better now and please don't eat my friend." Fred blushed.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, but Drusilla just giggled. "Swwwssswwssww, the little angels sing to me that I should never eat sweet Wesley, he'll help me find my way home when I get lost. And he can answer your riddle, if you let him." She began singing softly to herself again and danced towards the kitchen; Wesley wandered after.

"We have a riddle? So says the looney toon." Cordy did not look overly amused. "The only riddle I know is where Angel could be hiding. He's hours late! I thought he was with you, Charles?"

"Supposed to be, but my ghost-hunting turned up nothing unusual after the exorcism, and he said to come home. He wanted to check something with the owners before coming back."

At this, the doors of the hotel swung open to reveal a stinky, messy, thoroughly pissed-off Angel. Black coat flapping, he thundered down the stairs. Angel was having a bad day. What was supposed to be a simple de-haunting was most definitely not. And it wasn't, or they weren't ghosts. They wouldn't materialize, they wouldn't go away, and they were not happy with the current arrangements. The whatevers threw the owner of the house out of a second story window, after Angel had promised he had gotten rid of them with an exorcism. Then they trussed Angel up in his own gear and deposited him in the rubbish bin. From the roof. Now the client was demanding a complete refund if Angel Investigations couldn't remove the whatevers by the end of the week. And Angel had no idea what the whatevers were. Angel did not like refunds. Angel did not like lots of things. At the present time he did not like seeing Wesley feeding Dru his blood out of his mug in the middle of his hotel.

With a snarl, he snatched the offending mug out of Wes's hand, smashing it on the floor tiles, and shoved him up against the wall. Dru started to wail softly and collapsed on the floor. Angel hissed and said, "Do you have to be here now? What are you trying to do, take care of her, since you are _so_ good at that? I mean, look at how you handled the Connor situation, nearly got everyone killed, including yourself. Would have been better for everyone if that bitch Justine had done the job right."

Fred gasped and Gunn tried to pull Angel off Wes. Cordy said, "What is your glitch, Angel? The major attitude is bad for your complexion, though it does go well with the urban trash look you have going on. Feeling impoverished today?" Angel let go, still fuming.

Everyone's attention shifted to Wes, who had immediately dropped to Dru's side, and they noticed something different. That same something that Cordy had been trying to put her finger on earlier. His eyes were chilling, like ice, and rather frightening--not reasonable, and most definitely not afraid. "Wes?" Cordelia said tentatively. He looked back at her, fixing her with a gaze that could freeze hell. "Do you have something you would like to add? If not, I have to take my lady upstairs; our noble, soul-having avenger of the innocent has upset her." He swept Dru, still crying, into his arms and carried her lightly up the stairs and around the corner without a backwards glance.

Everyone was frozen in place, watching the pair depart. Angel looked baffled. "What was that?"

Fred said, "That was love."

****

*****4*****

Wes laid Drusilla on the bed gently. She whimpered and dragged him closer. "They hurt, cut up my skin. Make them stop. Oooo, nasty, nasty, stop that!" Wes was beside himself. He didn't know what to do, and she wasn't making sense. "I'll do whatever you want dear, just let me know what I can do!"

"Are we now? I want the world to stop, which are we in--the now or the then? Are you my Wesley or the others? I want my Wesley! Ms. Edith says he can help, he can find me and bring me home." She started wailing again, scratching him through his clothes. Her eye makeup bled down her face, and her chest trembled through the thin fabric.

Suddenly Wes had an idea. "Can you let me see what you see? I can come find you, I promise my love, trust me." Drusilla stopped keening long enough to reach up and grab his face. His clear blue eyes locked on her large, liquid, dark blue ones and he fell in.

There was roaring in his ears, and he couldn't keep his feet. The world was full of bright lights, kaleidescoping chaotically. He could see something that looked like himself not too far away, but he kept shifting in and out of different worlds. Sometimes he was one person, sometimes another. The other lives! She sees them all at the same time, he thought. And the noises-- whimpering, talking, whispering, crying. Crying! Drusilla, where is she? He could almost feel her, ephemeral and dark, an ebony cloud of silken strings being battered about. When a wisp floated by him, he grabbed on tightly, and called out, "I have you! I love you! You are mine!" The raucous din softened a little. 

"Wesley, my Wesley?"

"I am here, I love you, you are safe." He could almost begin to hear himself think. The form he held gradually became more solid, condensing into the lithe form he had come to know so well. 

She said softly, "Do you see? It won't stand still. I am always searching for the now, but the ground always runs away. Sometimes it takes me with it and I break apart." Wes looked around and suddenly realized what was before his eyes. Or her eyes. Many others overlay the reality he was so infinitely familiar with. He saw the room, with its sad mauve walls (he'd have to do something about that), but with shapes in the dark and others in the light. They danced and sang and whispered, teasing and testing. The world began to slide away, and he saw other places, other people, other times. Sometimes himself, sometimes Drusilla, others he knew, like Angel and Cordelia, once a red-haired, buxom beauty with golden eyes who laughed while dancing with abandon, later strange creatures, thin and pale--talons for hands, horrific and all too real. Their vision began spinning, realities swirling into each other. He grabbed Dru tighter and breathed in her scent, still present even in their minds as he caressed her hair. Her lustrous eyes looked up at him, and she tentatively smiled. "You'll save me. They said so."

Abruptly they were back in Wesley's reality, and he was holding her close, rocking her back and forth. Dru was peaceful, dozing, and he lay back on the pillows, cradling her against his chest. He stroked her neck, admiring the graceful curves. She peeked out from under her lashes and unbuttoned his shirt. He smiled fondly down at his raven-haired beauty. She ran her nails over his chest, leaving red welts with tiny drops of blood. "So pretty, little rubies, necklace for me, my love? May I taste?" Dru's tongue darted out and flicked over the thin crimson line all the way to his nipple. She bit down hard, puncturing the tender skin, and purred as she licked away the blood that pooled there. 

Wes could hardly contain his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders and rolled her under him, his lips meeting hers hungrily. With a flash, he saw Drusilla trussed up with midnight-blue satin ropes, appealingly naked and grinning mischievously. He blinked and saw the real Drusilla wink at him, fully clothed with head cocked coyly. He shook his head--did she just do that? He didn't want to waste a perfectly good suggestion, and set about liberating his lady from the offending garments as quickly as possible.

****

*****5*****

Wesley had his head in his hands. He was staring disconsolately at a pile of books on his desk, but not really reading. The others were out in the lobby--minus Angel and Dru who were still asleep--wandering about, not really sure what to do with themselves. And Wes didn't really care. They had betrayed him just as much as he had betrayed them, but at least he had acted in the best interests of the child; they shunned him out of some sort of misguided loyalty. Not that Angel didn't deserve loyalty, but the bastard had tried to kill him and was being entirely irrational about the whole affair. He had tried to make amends, but was soundly rejected. He couldn't shake the heavy feeling that had coiled around his heart. It was making it hard for him to concentrate. He was only sticking around for Dru, who had some attachment to, and was this century's penance for, Angel. 

Dru. His latest problem to solve. Researching was much easier to do when he wasn't personally invested in the outcome. He just couldn't see what her real problem was, but he was sure she wasn't crazy, in the clinical sense of the word. It was a puzzle where he couldn't see the end.

There was a soft tap on the door and Fred's brown hair appeared around the corner. Shyly, her face peeked out from underneath, "Mind if I come in?"

Wesley sighed, "Of course not." _Go away_. "Was there something you needed, Winifred?" _I hope not, go away. _"I will provide whatever service I can." _I don't want to talk to you, or anyone. Go away_.

Alas, in Wes's opinion, she did not go away; instead, she bounced in and sat across from him carrying a handful of articles. "We got these while you were away, I thought you would like to talk about them the way we used to."

__

I was away? Well then, by all means, Wes snarked in his head. _Hospital-with-throat-cut-away, you mean. _ But she was trying to make things better. If she failed he could always feed her to Dru, he half-joked. "What's on top of our list then, Fred?"

"Well, let's start with..." Three hours later, Wes was glazed over and not really paying attention when suddenly he started up out of his chair. 

"By God, that's it! Bring that article and come with me. Take some of these crystals with you when we go upstairs. Always knew those Canadians were on to something."

Fred, the silver-medallist of non-linear thinking around Angel Investigations, was completely confused. "Huh? I was talking about the three-dimensional holography imaging for data storage. Each angle you look at presents a different set of data, or works of literature or whatever. The entire Library of Congress would fit in the size of a sugar cube once they get this perfected. Just think about the ramifications of--"

"I know. I think I understand what happened to Drusilla. All those years ago when Angel drove her mad then turned her, he did something worse. He removed her frame of reference. Those data storage cubes are only effective if you know your vantage point. Dru lost that anchor and sees more than one line of data, or in this case, more than one reality at a time. She was already psychic, that was merely exacerbated, or helped along if you wish. I saw it through her eyes." He rushed up the stairs with Fred in tow. Cordelia and Connor looked up as they passed through the lobby. She gathered him up and followed quietly. Dru was in a different wing than Angel, but she didn't want to wake him up. He was awfully cranky in the mornings if he woke when he didn't have to be awake. 

When Cordy got to the door of Dru's room she saw Dru blinking sleepily in an old-fashioned white cotton nightgown as Wes ordered some large crystals around the bed. Fred stood looking awkward by the door, still clutching her papers and twiddling with the ends of her hair. Ms. Edith on the shelf was looking at her; she was sure of it. Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Holography, I think," said Fred, shrugging. 

"Well that helps, but what is he _doing_?"

"I am going to help Drusilla. She is not crazy, exactly, she just needs some focus. I can provide that for her, and help her sort out her realities. Make sure she stays grounded in this one. With practice, the meditations can be done without me, and eventually she probably won't need them. She should be able to see things in whatever plane she wishes, or at least when they make themselves available to her."

Cordy jiggled Connor on her hip. This was either going to make Angel very happy or very not. You never knew with that one. "Sounds good to me. Do you need some help? Fred could take Connor if you do, 'cause it sounds a little like my vision thing."

For once, Wes smiled. Maybe things were to get better. New Wes and a new Angel Investigations. Should be interesting. "I'd love that. Fred should take Connor back downstairs and you should come and hold my hand on one side and Drusilla's on the other. We should get this show on the road, to quote you Americans."

****

*****6*****

Cordelia was exhausted. Several hours earlier, Wes had called it a day and promptly fell asleep with Drusilla at his side. Cordy had gone to check on Connor, also asleep, do some research into the not-a-ghost problem, and ruminate on the day. She had no idea what she was getting into when she said she would help Wes and Dru. She ended up inside their heads for the better part of a day trying to meditate out some of Drusilla's inner bogeymen. And it had worked, somewhat. Wes had done most of the work; Cordy had been along for support--and as an impartial observer. 

As a result, she realized several things. Drusilla had it much worse than she did when it came to that vision thing. At least Cordelia knew when she was having a vision; Drusilla had to constantly sort them out of her everyday mental ramblings. Wesley truly did love Drusilla, and Drusilla reciprocated. She definitely wasn't planning on making a Wesley-flavored meal out of him. And strangest of all, Wes's mind was nothing like she expected. It was darker, and infinitely more frightening. She knew he must have trusted her to let her see into him, but she nearly lost it when he opened up. It was cold, and lonely, and it made her appreciate the facade he presented most of the time. The calm, collected, stiff-upper-lip Wesley hid a chilling interior. She reminded herself not to cross him any time in the near future; she didn't think she would like the results. And even weirder was Dru's behavior after the fact. She had blinked her eyes a few times then reached for Cordelia. Cordy had sat perfectly still as Dru leaned forward and softly kissed her. "Doux. Like sugar. My mother used to make cookies like you. Angel food." Dru curled up with Wes and yawned like a cat, fangs out. Cordelia's life wasn't like other people's lives.

She heard a noise on the staircase behind her and turned to see a very rumpled Wesley wandering into the lobby.

"Thanks," he said. "I have something else to ask of you, if you wouldn't mind leaving Connor with Fred again. I need the opinion of a lady."

"A lady?" Cordelia broke into a wide grin. "You mean shopping, don't you! Hell yeah, count me in!" Cordy situated Connor with Fred upstairs and reappeared in the lobby with bag in hand. "Let's go buster, time's a wastin'!"

Wes was pretty sure that Dru would sleep through their teatime. He had something special planned and he needed to make arrangements, and Cordelia would be the perfect help.

****

*****7*****

When Drusilla rolled over and stretched her self awake a little after dusk that night, she saw Wesley sitting in the chair across from her, quietly studying her. She growled at him, and he smiled at her.

"Best wake up, my dove, we have plans tonight. Remember that stroll? We are going out on the town tonight."

Drusilla's face lit up. "Can we go out to play? It has been too long since I have played any proper games." Wes winked. "Perhaps, don't you want to be surprised? Get dressed and we'll be on our way." Dru glided to the shower and returned a few minutes later. The drops of water on her naked skin glittered like diamonds and Wes's breath caught. He handed her a dress bag and a shoebox.

Drusilla slid the dress out of the bag and cooed softly. "Lovely, lovely, just like blood. All the better to drink!" She held the dress up to her body, and began to unfasten the back. It was deep red silk with a fitted bodice and low princess neckline in front. The back had a slight Chinese collar with buttons down the back, and long, full skirts to the floor. The sleeves were cap, and slightly rounded, and when she put it on, it fit like a glove. "Stunning," he said. "Now the shoes."

Drusilla opened the shoebox to find slightly heeled dancing shoes in the same color, again a perfect fit. "Cordelia helped with the sizes, she really is a wonder."

Drusilla hummed to herself as she fixed her hair and added some lipstick. She looked into the mirror out of habit, though she could only see Wes standing behind her wearing charcoal slacks and a soft black fitted sweater, v-neck. She twirled around on the vanity stool and ran her hands up Wes's inner thighs around to grab his buttocks. "Where is my lovely knight taking me? Dancing or a ball? I used to love balls so, and if I didn't like the music we would always eat the musicians. They have such spicy thoughts! Makes them taste yummy."

Wes raised her up and grabbed her hands. "Well, hopefully you won't eat tonight's musicians before the show. The Los Angeles Symphony is playing Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2, and I am very much interested in the guest performer. Shall we?" 

There was no one in the lobby, but they knew Cordelia and Fred were peeking around the corner to the office. Wes and Dru didn't stop to say anything to anyone, but hailed a taxi outside and were on their way.

****

*****8*****

They made their way out of the Symphony hall into the sparkling Los Angeles evening. Dru was humming the second movement theme, and had thankfully not eaten any of the musicians. They were all quite talented; it would have been a shame. Even the flautist had gotten the cues correct. Wes sighed. He had hoped that an evening spent relaxing would help with the heavy feeling in his chest. He was still wound up and agitated and he couldn't figure out why. Dru stopped humming and looked at him. "You're all tied up, aren't you? We can fix that, you know. Have a little fun?"

Maybe she was right, he thought. A little fun would do them both some good. His hand subconsciously went to the switchblade that had somehow made it into his pocket. Its acquisition had been fun, though he had tried not to think too much about how much he had enjoyed it. He had gotten in the habit of carrying it around; he just liked the feel of it in his fingers. Smooth and sharp. He sighed again. 

"Perhaps a nice walk then? It's not that far back to the Hyperion, maybe we can find something to entertain us." They continued down the stairs and out into the dark streets. They had walked maybe five blocks, talking pleasantly, when Drusilla clapped her hands.

"Do you smell it, my love? Fear, aggression, all that pain. It's delicious. Can we taste it? The wolves have caught the lamb all alone. May we?"

Drusilla looked so pleased by the idea, and technically he still was supposed to help the hopeless, so Wesley couldn't argue. And he didn't really want to. They turned down the next alley, and Wesley stopped to pick up a length of pipe lying by the wall. They crept quietly through the night, silent as death, and went to find their entertainment.

At the end of the alley, Melvin and Ramon were having a pretty good evening. The convenience store they'd ripped off was loaded, and they spent quite a bit of the take at the dive bar down the way, so consequently they were, too. Even better, to their way of thinking, was the young co-ed they saw hurrying down the road. Alone. Late at night. They had leered at each other and dragged her down the side road with Melvin's hairy paw clamped over her mouth and Ramon going through her purse. 

Until this moment, Gwen had always viewed this sort of thing as something that happened to other people. She was special, invincible, young. It was most definitely happening to her now, and she violently objected. She got a pretty good kick to Melvin's shin, and bit his fingers, but despite his grunts of pain, he didn't let go. "Look at her," Ramon said, "Got a pair on her. Fuck lotta good it'll do," and laughed. He punched her on the side of her head and she slumped forward. When she came to, her underwear had been ripped off and her skirt was up. Ramon held her wrists over her head and Melvin had his pants down around his knees. "Uppity bitch bit my finger! Now she gonna get it. Now she gonna be dead, but not till after." He smirked, and Gwen started struggling again, to no avail. The panic in her head was driving her crazy; she couldn't think, only feel, and she felt terrified. 

All of a sudden there was a loud WHACK and Ramon fell forward onto Gwen, pinning her down. When she extricated herself, she saw a tall, dark-haired man with eyes like the sky holding a pipe. A raven-haired woman in a gorgeous evening gown, with her back to Gwen, held Melvin by the throat and was weaving her fingers in front of his eyes. "Be in me," she heard the woman say. Melvin held still, even after the woman let go. The woman clapped her hands in glee. "See," she said, "we'll have fun tonight!"

At that, the man turned around to look at Gwen. He picked her jacket up off the ground and handed it to her, along with her purse, an innocent little thing covered with butterflies. He had a pleasant expression on his face--he looked like he was on an outing to the beach, not whacking people on the head with pipes in the alley. Gwen struggled to her feet and whispered, "Thank you, oh my God, thank you."

He tilted his head and really focused on her. "God had nothing to do with it. You had best run home and don't be so foolish again. There are worse things at night than these two." He pulled a knife out of his pocked, snicked it open, and ran his fingers over the blade, shiny and newly sharpened.

Gwen guffawed, attempting to gather her shredded clothes and dignity. Her world would never be the same; she could feel herself cracking apart even as she stood. "I highly doubt that; who could be worse than this scum." She kicked the unconscious Ramon's leg.

At that, the man laughed. "We are." 

The lady turned her head to face them--and Gwen was frozen. There was something the matter with it, lumpy or something, and her eyes were yellow, like a cat's. She bared her fangs, and said, "Best listen to him, dearie. My Wesley has been so restrained lately; he needs to have some fun. And unless you wish to watch--go home." Melvin was still standing there, pants around his ankles, dick flopping limply as he wove slightly back and forth. The last thing Gwen saw as she dashed out the alley was the man leaning to touch the blood on Ramon's face. He brought the bloody finger up to his lady's lips, and she eagerly licked it clean, the streetlight glittering off her topaz eyes and long fangs.

"And what fun we shall have, my dove. I do feel better already. Let's tie him up and see what the time brings, shall we? Here, take his belt, good for the hands. And I thought I saw some rope or twine back in that rubbish heap--ah yes, here it is. And a rag for his mouth." When they were done trussing Melvin, his hands were belted to a fence using his own leather belt. His legs were tied spread eagle to a large dumpster on one side and a fire escape on the other with the aforementioned twine, with his pants slit to tatters by Wes' knife hanging loosely around his knees. Wesley had stuffed a dirty rag, smelling suspiciously like urine, into his mouth and secured that with the last piece of twine. He whispered a sleeping incantation over Ramon just in case he came to sooner than they wished, then motioned for Dru to wake up Melvin. The moment he snapped out of it, he started to struggle. Melvin had no idea how he got from the relatively pleasurable position of giving some hussy the what-for, to being half naked in an alley with two strangers, one with serious facial issues and the other with a knife, looming above him acting like he was the main course on a buffet line. 

Wes grabbed his face and twisted it to face his own. "We need to have a little talk. It seems that you don't know how to properly treat a lady, isn't that right, dear?" His companion's face shifted and suddenly she was stunningly beautiful. She nodded in agreement and clicked her nails together. It reminded Melvin of a lion stretching its claws. He shivered. "You see, a man who can't behave properly is no man at all. We should make a demonstration of that, shouldn't we? Make sure that this gentleman remembers the lesson."

Wes knelt down between the Melvin's legs and grabbed his balls, hard. Melvin squeaked a very unmanly squeak and tried to twist away. Wes just smiled and flicked open his knife. He really was feeling better, calmer almost. He started humming to himself. Drusilla was delighted; the night was going just fine. Wes slid the knifepoint into the tender skin under the balls where they attached to the rest of the body. "You know, I did very well in anatomy in Watcher school. Nice that it is coming in handy." He sliced the knife up in one swift motion, splitting the sac in two. Melvin shrieked through his gag and started to cry. Wes made another incision across the top of the balls, under Melvin's penis, creating a T shape. Then he folded the skin back, leaving the testicles exposed. Drusilla was riveted. She leaned forward, her dark hair brushing over Wes's shoulders, and licked his ear. "Beautiful. Wicked man, now he understands." Wes smiled and made a few more passes with the knife. When he moved back, Melvin's skinless testicles rested on the palm of his hand. "Care to play?" he said.

Dru took them with a look of rapture. "See what caused you all that trouble, silly man? They're much more fun this way." Melvin's eyes had nearly bugged out of his head, and his puffy face was streaked and wet. Dru fiddled the testicles around in her hand for a minute, and then tossed them about in the air, like a cat with yarn balls, licking the blood off her fingers between tosses. 

"Can you juggle?" asked Wes, as he moved back over to Melvin. Melvin was shaking violently, but that didn't stop Wes from leaning over and carving out his left eyeball. "Now we have three, toss those here." Dru did just that, and Wes giggled as he started juggling Melvin's errant body parts. Melvin was moaning now, and blood was streaming down his face. He pulled on the belt, cutting into his skin, but it did no good. Wes tired of the game and tossed all three back to Drusilla. She regarded them for a moment and dropped them on the ground. Dru raised her elegant foot with beautiful red dancing shoes and smashed each one with her heel, laughing gleefully as first one, then the other, testicle went pop. She saved the eyeball for last, rolling it under the ball of her toes, staring at Melvin the whole time making sure she had his somewhat wavering attention. "Bad man wants everything he sees, best not to see anything at all!" With that, Wes stabbed the other eye through. Dru squealed out, "Do it again! Do it again!"

Wes looked at her indulgently. "Let's see what else we can do with our friend here to make our point even that much clearer." He held Melvin's left hand in his and spread out the palm. He sliced all the tendons in the palm, one by one, making sure Melvin felt each cut. Soon all the fingers were dangling, and Wes began skinning each digit, making a skin glove. "Hmm, need more practice. I was never into taxidermy, didn't like my dead things trying to look alive--seemed off. You, on the other hand, my dear, are the perfect personification of death." Wes repeated his actions on the other hand, but by the time he was finished, Melvin was unconscious. "Hmm, Drusilla, would you like a taste? He's boring me." Dru's eyes glittered as she knelt next to Wesley as he slit the man's throat. Dru drank greedily as Wes held her, running his hands over her arms and down to her breasts. His erection pressed into her lower back and he was breathing heavily. She purred, and turned to kiss him deeply, neither caring that her fangs slit his tongue, the taste of his blood mingling with that of their victim. 

"He tasted like panic. I like that, and the darkness was delicious. You are like wine, my sweet Wesley. Honey in my mouth." She pressed against him and growled. "What do you say to a different sort of game, my love?" Wesley instantly had an image in his head--the second man running scared, trying to escape, a delighted Dru on his tail.

"Whatever makes you happy." With that they climbed up the fire escape and waited. Fairly soon, Ramon swam back to consciousness. The first thing he saw was the mutilated body of his friend; mouth agape, lying in his own blood. He scrambled to his feet and looked around wildly. Whatever had done this had left him alone, thank the heavens. Muttering a prayer, he scuttled out of the alley. Two svelte shadows dropped silently down the street below and began to follow.

Ramon thought all was fine for a few blocks, but then he started to get the heebie jeebies. Something was watching him, he was positive. He ducked into a liquor store and addressed the clerk, "Man--you see anyone out there?"

The clerk, bored beyond tears, glanced out the window. "Just some classy couple out for a walk or sumthin'. Wouldn't worry, you just buggin' man." And turned back to his magazine. Jennifer Lopez's bellybutton was riveting.

Ramon thought he may as well salvage something from the evening and waited until the couple passed. Hot chick, he thought. He snuck as quietly as a drunken human with a head wound could out the door, and headed off after them. They slowed to look at an old building when Ramon grabbed the man around the neck. "Hand over your money. Now!"

Weirdly, the man didn't flinch. In fact, he merely said, "See, I told you he would come to us." The woman grinned and vamped out: "Boo!" Ramon shrieked and took off sprinting down the nearest alley, Dru in hot pursuit. What he didn't realize was that she was driving him back to Wesley, waiting in the same alley as his friend's corpse. When Ramon saw the body, he skittered to a stop. Wildly looking back and forth, he understood the end game. The pair of hunters advanced, blade and fangs drawn, and Wes began to hum.

****

*****9*****

Angel's mood hadn't improved. He and Gunn had returned, armed with a few spells and nets, to the house to attempt to reason with the whatevers. Or bash their brains in. Angel truly loved a good brain bash, as much as he didn't let on to Cordelia. There just wasn't enough violence in this kind of work. When they had gotten there, things went from bad to worse. The whatevers tossed Gunn around like he was a doll, then ate him. Or at least, Angel thought they might have tried to, because he simply vanished. He didn't want to tell Fred, or anyone else, without trying to get Gunn back. He could still smell him, and he didn't smell dead, just bloody, but certainly invisible. He was trying to make sense of Wes's filing system when Cordy and Fred came into the office.

"Where's Charles?"

"Umm, waiting back at the house. We still haven't figured this out yet. And we need the money…" he trailed off. 

"Well, Lorne is upstairs babysitting Connor, so we can help if you need it. Did you try this stack over here?" Cordy gestured to a pile of musty tomes by the door, and Angel shook his head. Musty tomes were not his specialty. If they had heads he could knock off, then he would be interested, but as it was, he was frustrated and confused. Cordy came behind him and began to rub his neck. His hair was so soft for someone who put so much crap on it, she thought, playing with the ungelled portion in the back. 

Angel leaned back. "What looks like a ghost, acts like a ghost, but is not a ghost?" he wondered out loud.

"Oh!" Fred jumped. "The riddle. The one Drusilla was talking about. The one Wes can answer. That has to be it! Your whatevers! He knows how to identify them, I know it!" Cordelia looked thoughtful, but Angel was not impressed. He did not want Wes's help, but he was in a bind, the need to get Gunn back safely had to take priority. 

"Fine, we'll ask, but I don't know what he could do."

Cordelia swatted the back of his head. "Get your head out of your butt. This is no time to be all territorial pissy male. I think Wes can help, and will help. So get over it."

Not very long after, they heard the front door of the Hyperion open, and Wes sauntered down the stairs swinging Drusilla by her waist. Cordy was impressed at how relaxed he looked, how open and happy, and "Oh my God," she thought, "he killed someone." Her little foray into his psyche was even more unnerving now that she could truly interpret his actions. She felt a little faint. Get over it Cordy, she told herself. If he killed someone, they deserved it. And immediately she felt better. Maybe doing this half-demon thing had some morality manipulation going on, she mused. Nice side effect.

"Wes, we need your help with something. Angel has some whatevers in a house that won't go away. He thinks they're ghosts, but they aren't and they messed up his coat. We think you know the answer to the riddle."

The pair stopped and looked at Fred, looking hopeful, Cordelia, looking bemused, and Angel, looking grouchy and embarrassed. "What can we do?" said Wes, polishing his glasses. He hoped he hadn't gotten blood into the hinges, it would corrode the screws. He turned his attention back to the room. Angel waved his arm towards the office and said, "You usually look stuff up, right? What do you know about ghosts that aren't? I mean--" and Angel stopped and sniffed the air. He looked directly at Drusilla, who was licking the corners of her mouth, and dashed across the foyer. "You killed someone, didn't you! I smell him on your clothes." 

Dru smiled as Wes answered for her, "No, Angel, she didn't--I did." He looked perfectly calm, and completely unconcerned that Angel was advancing on him in fury. "My love wanted a night on the town, and I gave her what she needed." Dru looked at him winningly, batting her eyelashes coquettishly as she sliced a small cut on his neck with her nail, licking it clean. "I don't know what you are so upset about, they weren't your precious innocents, and not good people by any means."

"You killed more than one! What were you thinking? Have you lost your mind? You have a soul, a conscience!" Angel shook his head and tried not to knock Wes on the floor. He didn't want a repeat of the other night, and most definitely didn't want a ticked Dru on his hands. She looked saner than he had seen a long time, and a sane Dru was a dangerous Dru. 

"We are not so different, Angelus; I just decided to finally act on my desires. Don't get all high and mighty on me, just because you have a soul. Look what good it did you with that room full of lawyers. They were just as dead at your hands, despite being not very tasty hors d'oevres for my Drusilla." Wes's voice was steel and his gaze didn't waver. Truth be told, Angel was unnerved. Angel had done unspeakable things for longer than this man had been alive, but not like this. This was different. Wasn't it? Drusilla sidled up beside Angel and touched his face. He whipped around and looked at her. 

She narrowed her eyes and hissed. "Bad Daddy. You didn't tell them. They will be very upset."

"Tell us what, Angel? Something the matter?" Fred's narrow face played several emotions rapidly--curiosity, confusion, apprehension, and finally fear. "Charles? Something's happened to Charles!"

Dru and Wes caught her as Fred's legs buckled out from underneath her. "Daddy lost him, but my Wesley will get him back. Wesley is good at finding things, aren't you, my love." 

Wes nodded and held Fred's fragile hands. "I need to get a few things, and we can be on our way." He had caught the image Dru sent his way and he understood what he had to do. "Fred, I know you are going to want to help, but I really think it would be best if you stayed with Lorne and Connor. Sing to Lorne, he can keep you appraised." Fred nodded numbly. Cordy took her hands from Wes and helped her up, glaring at Angel as she walked up the stairs. Angel and Wesley stared at each other for a moment, then Wes held out his hand. "You're a right bastard, you know, no matter how much of a saint Cordelia thinks you are. We'll fix this then we'll call it even."

Angel thought for a moment and shook Wes' hand. Dru clapped and said, "Play nice now, or you'll get no dessert, my boys." She smiled impishly. She wasn't particularly concerned for Gunn, he wasn't that important to her, but she did like Cordelia, and even Fred, and they would be very upset if he were gone. And Daddy would be even less fun than usual. 

Wes gathered a few things from the office and storeroom and indicated the weapons closet as if to say, pick your favorites. He chose an axe for himself, and Angel went for a broadsword and a shorter sword he could sheath on his back. Drusilla chose nothing, and Cordelia, when she came back downstairs, snagged the crossbow. With that, they disappeared into the night outside.

*****10*****

Most of the time Wes thought of Los Angeles as the worst place on earth. A hell where ordinary people went about their sad little lives, breathing noxious, desiccated fumes, struggling with low self-esteem and bad traffic. He hated it most of the time. But every once in while, there was a night like this one, where the ocean breeze blew the smog over the mountains, and he could smell the salt air. It made everything seem cleaner, brighter, and more alive. 

They reached the house and parked out front, the roof of Angel's car down. Only a vampire would think to leave an open-top convertible on the side of the road in Encino. Wes looked up at the two-story ranch style home with overpruned bushes and a collection of tacky lawn gnomes. He felt Dru grab his hand and he squeezed hers in return. "Are you sure?" he said, "It won't be easy. But I will always be there to catch you." Dru nodded, and started up the stairs.

Angel and Cordy followed behind, curious about the turn of events. It was obvious that Wes and Dru had some idea of what to do, but only Cordy had an inkling of what it could be. The whatevers seemed to be quiet for the time being, so Wes set a ring of crystals in the cleared space in the living room. Dru shivered. "They watch, jealous things. Not quite here, not quite there. They know we are coming."

"Can you draw them to us, Angel? I need them to be in the room, hopefully with Gunn in tow. Dru, Cordy and I are going to sit in the center of the circle, and try not to disturb us. When I nod, be prepared. The whatevers should be there, ready to be hacked to pieces. Enjoy."

Angel was baffled. He was feeling baffled a lot recently, and wasn't sure he liked it. But if this got Gunn home safely, and Cordelia talking to him again (it had been a quiet ride over), it was well worth it. Especially if he got to rip something apart in the process. Wes, Dru and Cordelia formed a circle and closed their eyes.

It was much as before. The disorientation wasn't quite as bad, and Cordelia was really just along for the ride. Wes was talking softly to Drusilla, crooning almost, and Dru looked tremulous. She wasn't all that happy about people in her head, but they did make things quieter, and easier to focus. "Show us what you see, dove, and we'll go exploring together." Dru focused on the room around them, seeing only the real world first. She concentrated and things started to come out of the shadows. There were sparkles in the lights near the windows, but no Gunn. Wes gently suggested she push to another plane. In the background, they could hear Angel hollering something irritating, and Wes figured he was trying to get the other being's attention. Dru waved her hands a bit and all of a sudden, the room was teeming with shapes. In a second, they began to resolve into thin wraith-like forms, milky white, with long arms, and sharp claws. And two of them were holding a bloody, battered, slightly-gnawed-on Gunn. Cordelia gasped the minute Wes began chanting. The crystals around them, as many as Drusilla could see, began to glow. They intensified to the point of nearly blinding Angel, who didn't turn away fast enough, and when he could see again, Wes was nodding tiredly, and the room was full of unhappy-looking demons, who didn't waste any time. 

Angel launched forward, slicing with the sword, impaling two, chopping the arm off of the third. Cordelia broke the circle and let loose with her crossbow, hitting one square in the chest before his companion bowled her over. Wes was a little slow to get on his feet, and Dru tackled one before he had a chance to sink his claws into Wes's back. The remaining fight was dirty and bitter, but in the end, Angel Investigations was successful. Angel had multiple slashes from the creatures' claws, Cordy had broken two nails and needed a new crossbow string, Dru had ripped her dress and her hair was a mess, and Wes thought he had a broken rib or possibly three. The whatevers had fared considerably worse. Most were in pieces on the floor, though a few had departed, howling, through whatever portal they had come through in the first place. The battered crew collected Gunn and limped to the car, which was thankfully still intact.

No one said much on the ride back; Wes and Dru were clearly exhausted from whatever they had done to push the demons fully into this plane. Wes said they were likely Kirya demons, not often found in this dimension, which had gotten stuck halfway between here and there. And they were probably just hungry, which is why they dragged Gunn back to their purgatory with them. "Hungry demons are cranky demons, right dear?" Wes said sleepily. 

"Mmhmm," Dru nodded against his shoulder. She nibbled on his earlobe and settled in for a nap back to the hotel.

Angel looked over to Cordelia, who was watching him with a funny expression on her face. "What?" he said. 

"Nothing. I just think we should have a talk sometime, when it's not a life-or-death situation. Might do us some good." Ha, she thought, let him stew on that for a while. Angel looked terrified.

*****End Note*****

Across LA, a girl in a pair of fluffy cloud-covered pajamas sat reading the morning paper. She had huge circles under her eyes and her hands shook as she folded the paper. Her eyes lit on an article about a local killing in an alley downtown. Two men were found mutilated and drained of all blood, the investigation was still pending. Photographs were attached. The police had established a tentative link between these killings and one that had happened a fortnight before. They were concerned that the person may strike again, though the killer seemed to be targeting 20- to 30-something males of less-than-desirable backgrounds with criminal records.

Gwen smiled a horrible smile; maybe things would be OK after all.


End file.
